


A Lannister Always Pays His Debts

by Ro_Nordmann



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, F/M, Jaime is his worst enemy, Not A Fix-It, Past Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Self-Fulfilling Prophecy, The Long Night, Valonqar Prophecy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:56:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro_Nordmann/pseuds/Ro_Nordmann
Summary: Bran’s eyes were white orbs, his mind elsewhere, not cognizant of the goings around him. The Night King turned his back momentarily, seeing the immediate danger of Valyrian steel closer to his lieutenants. A hissing whisper pierced their eardrums making them almost drop their weapons and surrender to the acute pain.Must prevail. This is my destiny. Must save the boy. Pay the price. A Lannister always pays his debts.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	A Lannister Always Pays His Debts

* * *

**MAGGY THE FROG** had found the one dubbed the _Kingslayer_ up north. She’d been waiting patiently inside the tavern, knowing that fate had smiled upon its faithful servant. Once upon a time, she’d answered the one who’d sit on the Iron Throne by conspiracy, deceit and murder. Golden were the shrouds of her children, all dead by the misdeeds of their egotistical, incestuous procreators. Her nails were long and filthy, as her hands were covered in age spots and wrinkles She didn’t hide them under the table, letting them be seen by all the bystanders and patrons drink their fill and hoping it would last a long while. 

She had seen the _Others_ , with their haunting, glinting blue eyes and the flesh rotting off the skeletal frames of their minions, forever hungry and never sated, roaming and searching for the living to tear apart and kill. They were closer than ever and these smallfolk would perish with the first wave. She coughed and spat on the dirt floor, obsidian sputum like the blood that came out of these fiends. Nothing would abate their appetite, the wights were mindless, controlled by old magick.

Her neck cricked in pain, as her body protested being stationary for so long. The tavern wench, came by and dropped a stale, moldy piece of bread and a stew that was more dark water than broth. The old crone nodded her thanks and let it get colder on the table. A few minutes later, the door opened, letting a gust of wind disturbs the warmth of the place. The sole candle on the table extinguished hiding her face from view.

Jaime Lannister was standing, looking bewildered and haggard, out of breath and searching for someone. Maggy laughed, more like wheezed as she saw the man she’d been expecting. The raven had said to come alone, there were important news from King’s Landing, from his sister, Queen Cersei. He’d secretly hoped that she’d come to her senses and decided to join in the effort to fight the White Walkers and their endless army, that would surely exterminate the whole population of Westeros, making pointless to fight over who’d be ruling over the Seven Kingdoms and claim the Iron Throne.

There was no signature at the bottom of the message and he’d blindly abide without letting anyone, not even Brienne know where he’d gone to. He felt foolish now, standing in the middle of the dilapidated inn. Just as Jaime was about to leave a hoarse voice call to him, “Jaime...Jaime, come sit.”

He shivered all over, his heart started to beat faster and dread fill his stomach. This voice he didn’t know, but he followed it and sat in front of the stranger. It was dressed in rags, stinking of death and decay. A hand came out of its robes and grasped his sole hand, yanking him forward. His green eyes stared into the abyss, falling under a stupor, words coming out of its maw, “Look in and see for yourself...let it fill you and show you the way, Kingslayer. Pay the price for being the Golden Lion that laid with the Lioness. No child lingers in this world. She didn’t listen. You must listen. NOW!”

One of her nails slit his wrist and the blood that spilled, Maggy tasted with relish. Jaime tried to pull his hand, but wasn’t able to dislodge the old hag’s grip. He was powerless to stop it. 

The faceless witch, hidden under her cloak opened her bottomless eyes, all black and somehow entered his mind’s eye. “Listen and see, you’re the last Lion of the Rock, for your brother will not be able to take it from you and you will die, if you heed my words.”

A mist covered them both, enveloping and blinding him, he could taste the salt in the air, and hear the waves hitting the rock. He swayed as if inside a ship and he could see an island, and its waters the most beautiful he’d ever seen so reminiscent of the eyes of his wench. 

_Brienne_.

The voice returned, far off, as if coming underwater, “Don’t be distracted. This isn’t ‘bout her! If you don’t see, she’ll die along with the rest of the northern forces. The Dragon must come and take out the eternal ones. You must sacrifice yourself, Kingslayer. This is your fate. You wronged the North and it remembers. The Seer may be not the boy anymore, but the gods won’t be forgiving. They demand payment from you. Your sister conjoined with you, are to be judged. Too many have suffered for your sins. Not even your journey here can undo the past. Do one more good deed, save the Maid and you’ll find peace. Maybe in another life, you’d have found her enough.” 

A barrage of images invaded his head making it ache. Brienne on her knees being knighted by Widow's Wail in his trembling and her eyes, they stared with such love and devotion. Then, he could see himself fighting side by side with Brienne, defending Winterfell against the army of the Dead. The Long Night would end and he would live, so would the wench. Only, he would succumb to his lust and take her maidenhead. She would love him dearly, believing him true and honorable. He would bask in her radiance and devotion until a raven from the south would shatter the illusion. Cersei, his other half, always demanding, implacable and hateful, would require his return. If she must die, he would die with her. So many vows, he’d broken most but this one...he could not. Brienne’s tears and sobs followed him on this ride back to King’s Landing. She’d begged him to stay, that he couldn’t save his sister...and he’d been ruthless with his words, wounding her with every breath. _Hateful. Oathbreaker. Kingslayer. Man without honor._

“I’m not worthy of _her_.”

Maggy blinked, the fog growing denser around her, “No, you’re not, Jaime. She’s too pure for the likes of you and your crimes. She’s got a maiden’s heart trapped in grotesque prison meant to repel men. The gods intended for her to serve, not to be like other women, wife and mother.”

Under the dimness, Jaime saw his brother enter the Red Keep with an army taking over the capital. His mismatched eyes brightened as he found their sister cowering, alone and afraid. Her goblet dropped from her hands, splintering on the marble. There was no poison left to save her from his grasp, as he choked her to death and gloried in her blank stare.

Jaime howled in agony, as the vision lashed at him. Unrelenting, the hag cackled in glee in the background enjoying his torment. Her bony fingers gripped his face, leaving marks with her claw-like nails. “It’s not done with you… If you don’t die in the Long Night, you may doom your Maid of Tarth, the _Beauty_ will perish at the hands of the wights feasting on her flesh, tearing her apart in front of the young man and you will come too late to stop it. Her last breath washing over your gore-covered face. You’ll be fearing that she’ll wake up and join the horde with glowing, blue eyes no longer sapphires beaming in the sunlight.”

Sobbing, he felt the energy seep from his old bones. His skin turning pallid and paper-thin, as his diaphanous, azureous veins began to bloat and fester about to burst. An unknown sickness had befallen him, making Jaime suffocate on his own upsurging vile. He struggled, his hands grasping on the dirt as he tried to dislodge the lump in his throat. The lack of air caused him to black out.

* * *

Jaime woke up in his cot in the soldiers’ barracks. His glassy eyes met his brother’s, as Tyrion grappled with his thoughts. “The Dragon Queen is coming to Winterfell with her children. It’s our only viable chance against the Dead… afterwards, she’ll march to King’s Landing and end our sister’s reign. I need to know before Daenerys steps into the Great Hall--Where do your loyalties lie now, brother?”

His answer had to wait, as he bend sideways and emptied his stomach. The Imp scowled, “Seven hells, Jaime! Did you imbibed more than you should have last night? The gall of you to do such a thing without me. What’s amiss? You’ve turned ashen as if you’ve seen a ghost…”

Jaime coughed and cleared his throat, with a raspy voice, “P-promise me, brother… You’ll protect Brienne of Tarth. She must outlive us all.”

Tyrion stared intently into his unhinged gaze, “Are you planning on following the Stranger, Jaime?What’s brought this on?”

“I’m not afraid of dying, Tyrion. I’ve come North with no expectation of leaving past the Long Night. My children are dead and all I have is you. I can’t protect you from your fate, more than you can’t stop me from taking the slash of a blade determined to strike the Maid of Tarth.”

* * *

The bodies surrounded them from all sides, Jaime couldn’t see beyond as there were no stars in the never-ending darkness of the Long Night. Brienne grunted with every parry and slash against the wights. Podrick leaned on the castle wall, hoping for some respite. A horn sound off, announcing the change of guard, he was hoping it was a sign that the end was near. 

Jaime only cared to stay by Brienne’s side, already failing to deflect a surge that resulted in the unfortunate chunk of flesh lost on her face. He feared she’d suffer infection for lack of care, but there was no time and the most they could do would be a rag soaked in boiled wine against the wound. 

The second horn wasn’t about reinforcements. The dead began to rise and there was nowhere to go. Jaime held Brienne behind him, as he solely could shield her from the rising corpses with glowing, blank-staring eyes. The crone’s voice came eerily inside his mind: _If you don’t die in the Long Night, you may doom your Maid of Tarth…_

“Podrick, take your lady ser. Let her live! You live, you hear!” 

He pushed forward, leaving Brienne in the capable hands of her loyal squire as he held Widow’s Wail, its Valyrian steel the only thing able to strikedown a White Walker. He faced one that controlled the battalion and once his blade sliced through, it shattered into shards of ice. 

The mob of dead tumbled lifeless and he found himself hollering into the abyss, “COME AND TAKE ME! Let it be known that the Kingslayer was no coward when the Stranger came for him! Spare the Maid worthy of knighthood! May the Dragon Queen bestow such honor upon her worthy shoulders after this battle! Burn it all , Targaryen! Make the Mad King proud!”

The wisp of a woman riding her beloved Drogon and his growl could be heard as it approached and the lava flowed, igniting everything in its path. Charred bodies and ash filled the air, as the survivors cheered as the army was decimated. Jon Snow, the King in the North ran past him, screaming for the remaining forces to follow him. Unwittingly, Jaime pursued after him and came to see the Night King, with his crown made out of horns and its ghastly face set upon the crippled young man, sitting on his wooden wheelchair under the blood-red leaves of the Starks Weirwood tree.

A chilling dread burgeoned within the Kingslayer, that settled with finality. Side by side, he fought along with the bastard king ending the White Walkers, giving the living a real stake against the wights. 

Bran’s eyes were white orbs, his mind elsewhere, not cognizant of the goings around him. The Night King turned his back momentarily, seeing the immediate danger of Valyrian steel closer to his lieutenants. A hissing whisper pierced their eardrums making them almost drop their weapons and surrender to the acute pain. 

_Must prevail. This is my destiny. Must save the boy. Pay the price. A Lannister always pays his debts._

Shoving off and sidestepping then turning back to slash a White Walker, Jaime stalked towards the only male heir of the Stark family. The man looked emaciated, consumed by the preternatural power that had taken over his mind and body, what he’d called the Three-Eyed Raven. 

“I’m coming, Bran. It matters not if there's afterwards. Only if you get to live and the living survive this night.” 

The Night King perceived the strategic move, of both blades so near and trying to circumvent his advancement upon his intended target. The lance pierced Jaime’s chest, preventing it from touching the boy. Ice began to poison his blood and it was like the vision, of his veins turning dark blue and bloated. 

“Brienne...Brienne.” 

His eyes shut in anguish for how he wished he could stare at her astonishing eyes one last time. Snow found him on the ground, as Bran uttered, “Winterfell will rebuild after this night. The Night King is dead. The living has won.”

The crunching of the remains of shards of the ice that made up the White Walkers alerted them of company. Brienne ran and dropped to her knees, “Jaime… I’m here. Look at me, please. Jaime!” Her hands held him so lovingly and her eyes, oh her eyes, yes they would be the last thing he’d see of this world. 

_Take me, Stranger for I’ve seen the love in her eyes_.

And with a shuddering breath, the Kingslayer died in the ground of the Godswood in the arms of the woman he loved. The Red Woman stood in the darkness, her eyes shining bright as she declared to her god, “It’s been done as the flames demanded. The sacrifice fulfilled, the blood of the kingslayer spilt and the darkness defeated by dragonfire and the sword of the one that was promised. The Maid will be a knight after defending the innocent. And the Mad Queen will perish under the needle of the faceless girl. Praise thee, R’hllor.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Exorcising past demons caused by the atrocious S8 and the many plot-holes that will drive us to insanity if we let them... There's a beautiful fanart of Jaime dying in Brienne's arms that always made me want to write a one-shot with him dying in her arms, the arms of the woman who loved him and that we all want to believe he CHOSE to love.
> 
> Sorry *not sorry* for the HF. Hope you can forgive me and keep reading my musings.


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